


Not by the Moon

by TheRealRedRaven



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alpha Im Jaebum | JB, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst and Porn, Angst and Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Bookshop Owner Im Jaebum | JB, Claiming Bites, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Declarations Of Love, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Forehead Kisses, Friendship/Love, Fucking, Im Jaebum | JB Is Bad At Feelings, Im Jaebum | JB is a Sweetheart, Insecure Im Jaebum | JB, Jealous Im Jaebum | JB, Kissing, Knotting, Love, Love Bites, Love Confessions, Male Friendship, Male Solo, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mates, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Neck Kissing, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Im Jaebum | JB, Romance, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Rutting, Sex, Shy Im Jaebum | JB, Slow Romance, Smut, Soft Im Jaebum | JB, Top Im Jaebum | JB, Tragedy, Tragic Romance, Vaginal Sex, Werewolf Courting, Werewolf Im Jaebum | JB, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealRedRaven/pseuds/TheRealRedRaven
Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.Unchanging.None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.That is when Time truly started ticking.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB & Reader, Im Jaebum | JB & You, Im Jaebum | JB/Reader, Im Jaebum | JB/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

There is nothing quite like visiting a bookshop on a rainy autumn day, walking the pavements that will soon deepen in their shade of grey as the scarlet and burnt orange leaves will be decorated with tiny watery crystals. The fierce wind preludes to the sorrow of the gloomy clouds overhead, the chill creeping beneath the navy trenchcoat cooling the little skin bared by a simple ink black V-neck shirt. Caffeinated bordeaux sneakers hasten their step when leaving the district ruled by busy city life and entering the artisans district on the east side of town, where the boroughs are ruled by artists, individual shops, cafés and independent bookstores that each have their own vibe.

For a while now, a specific one has yet to be visited, intending to drop by ever since that long walk that lead through many a cobblestone street lined with brownstone houses and not a single business anywhere in sight. Except for  _ Paper Souls _ , a hidden gem tucked away at the edge of the area where homes and commerce just meet and have resulted in a small store disguised as a proper worker’s house. As can be judged from the window display, the shop sells both well-known titles alongside more obscure ones, bound in editions fresh from the press and those having lived a ready life on someone’s shelves.

A second before the first tears of the heavens fall and make their presence known by ticking against the window, the bookstore is entered with a low sigh of delight. Nothing comes remotely close to the distinct scent of books, this specific combination of mustiness and ink laced with the fragrance of the weather outside and perfumes of customers. Or, in this case, solely the owner’s.

Here and there, a rumour about the man ruling the paper kingdom has been picked up and it is safe to say not all have been positive. A subject that has been frequently touched upon, oft causing more of a stir than the overall intimidating attitude, are the differently coloured eyes. One brown like hazelnuts at the end of the year and the other as blue as the ocean far outside the harbour.

The ones belonging to long blonde locks with dark roots looking up from the current read behind the counter and which are briefly met with a polite nod and casual greeting. At least one aspect of the groundless gossip is true because the disgruntled stoicism on the handsome face acknowledging the professional meaningless acquaintance silently makes the heart race and constricts the throat. It awakens the need to run and hide somewhere among the chestnut shelves, become a character in a tale so as to vanish and thus avoid upsetting the clerk by merely being present. Which might be the biggest problem, considering today’s goal of staying inside and spend it as is habitually done.

_ Don’t be silly. Just find a book and settle down somewhere to read a few pages. As long as you’re quiet, nothing’s gonna happen. _

Thus, mayhaps repeating the self-chastisement once or twice, the creaking worn floorboards are walked upon as ghostlike as possible though every step makes the Body cringe due to the loudness disturbing the silence. 

And him.

The young man whose gaze is momentarily met before fleeing to the vintage couch in an incline with a gorgeous Penguin hardcover copy of William Blake’s  _ Songs of Innocence and Experience _ , which has been found in the poetry section across from the counter. Breath was held while standing on the tips of the toes while reaching for the thin volume on one of the highest shelves, hoping to not attract attention and refusing to use one of the nearby dark-wooden stools to climb atop because such acrobatics would likely not sit well with the person causing the hairs at the back of the neck to stand on edge.

A sigh of relief cannot be helped when loosening the buttons of the trenchcoat and tossing it over the arm rest before snuggling up in the corner of the sofa. Finally a moment devoid of stress, a chance to be carried off by the works of a beloved poet and artist embodying the truth of childhood and adulthood.

But being brought back all too soon from criticism on the corrupt Catholic Church by the oppressive presence of loose ripped jeans which are perceived just above the edge of the mustard cover. Despite being barely able to gather the courage to look away from the page, lashes nevertheless look up to hands tucked into denim pockets and non-matching irises peering down. Curiously, though it is also alarming, the gaze from above is awkward as if unsettled by the mere presence of a well-meaning bookworm which confirms the assumption about being a nuisance.

Although, the paradoxically misplaced inquiry spoken in a husky voice undermines the deduction. The lowering of broad shoulders does too, allowing personal defenses to waver a bit in the pursuit of kindness. ‘’How do you like your coffee?’’

Bewildered yet finding no clear reason for the kind question in the stoicism of two-toned locks, the simple reflex of asking for a repeat is acted upon with a sheepish tongue that does not know what to make of the situation. ‘’Sorry, what?’’

‘’Coffee. How do you drink yours?’’ A gruff slightly chubby thumb points toward the door, the glass decorated with autumnal tears. ‘’It might be raining, but I still need caffeine. Figured I might as well buy you something too. So, what should I get?’’

_ What do I do? Do I accept the offer? I mean, he offered it, but declining would still be polite. Then again, it’s free coffee. _

‘’Oh, uhm, that’s very sweet of you.’’ The bundle is put down in the lap, flabbergasted shy hands tucked between the thighs while trying to stay as small as possible. It is a silly instinct, but the closeness of the intimidating bookshop clerk calls for it. Moreover, the deep slightly hoarse tone that sounds both as if still recovering from something and being exhausted with the world does not make matters better. 

However, albeit for a split second that is not credible enough, little will-o-the-wisps illuminate the entrancing wildness of an ocean and hazelnut forest as a quicksilver smile flashes over roseate lips. A beautiful fleeting sight which might never have arisen from the solemnity resting like a mask on the youth’s face.

A daydream.

Indeed, surely that is what it must have been. What other reason could there be to show a sign of being pleased with someone who does not feel particularly welcome and at ease in this paper kingdom?

Led astray by the unfocused train of thought, distracted by what may or may not have been witnessed, the actual answer comes out on a mumble. All the while boldly looking back, wondering. ‘’An iced vanilla latte... would be nice.’’

Acknowledging the order with a mere low rumble similar to a wolf’s, the clerk sets off on a caffeinated journey and leaves an affected soul behind. 

While still being highly uncomfortable with the lad’s presence, the thought of what just happened and the offer of a drink that was not in the slightest reluctant imprints a warm impression on a racing heart. Yet, before any ungrounded fantasies arise, the poetry bundle is quickly picked up again and later exchanged for a thick volume of Keats’s poetry that has been picked up in a rush to seemingly have never moved from the leather couch. To not leave a single trace of chaos which might trigger the wrath of the bookshop keeper and perhaps end up in being drenched by cold coffee. 

All the fear is evidently in vain because, when being once again engrossed by poetry, the ghost of a touch over the cheekbone breaks the spell. As if awakening from a dream, the suggestion of the outstretched cold drink passes unnoticed. Instead, it is replaced by a look at ripped jeans beneath a loose tartan blazer, resulting in the novel discovery of a little gem embedded in the right nostril. 

The rattle of ice entrapped in plastic fully awakens the senses as well as the sharp rustle of a paper bag bearing the logo shaped like an apple out of which a bite has been taken. ‘’Here. It’s on me. Don’t think anything of it, I just don’t want you to get dehydrated or hungry.’’

‘’Right.’’ With trembling hands expecting to have the food carelessly thrown into the lap and drink pushed into the palm, the surprising meal is accepted. Without the slightest sign of pushing. ‘’Still, thanks.’’

Once again, a beastly grunt is all that is received in return before checkered trainers retreat to the front of the establishment. Strangely, they soon return with the current read which was enjoyed behind the counter alongside the cold brew that was picked up to battle the fatigue that noticeably laces demeanour. Because, when sinking back into the sofa after having been gestured at to scoot over and haphazardly making room, lashes flutter shut for longer than a mere blink. Notwithstanding, they are awake enough to notice the shift in reading. ‘’Keats?’’

‘’Uh, yes. He’s one of my favorites alongside Blake, Donne and, on occasion, Wordsworth.’’ Personal enthusiasm takes over when mentioning the last poet with whom there is a love-hate relationship, erasing any anguish at being close to the keeper of the kingdom and thus making it possible to ignore the few centimeters of space between bodies. ‘’Even though he’s basically a fraud by turning his sister’s experiences into poetry. It makes one wonder whether he had any talent to come up with something himself. Now, I do believe some of his works are genuinely his, but not all. Sorry, I’ll- I’ll shut up.’’

Questioning chestnut and water reintroduce the silence disturbed by autumnal rain accompanied by howling winds, stretching out over the empty streets. Nobody likes a blathering fool, least of all the stoic who surprisingly has decided to join one’s company. 

Or, so was the original thought that is now nullified by a sliver of a smile and something inaudible smokily mumbled beneath breath. There is no courage to inquire about what was said nor ask for a reason for being evidently entertained, simply rapidly picking up the volume again to resume reading with an overheated, ashamed mind.

Here and there, however, sneaky peeks are thrown in the direction of bleached locks thoroughly enjoying Dante’s  _ Inferno _ , a work that has been on the to-be-read list for the longest time and somehow has never been crossed off.

_ Come on, you can do it. Ask him how it is, whether he likes Dante. Don’t be a marshmallow. Okay, one, two... fuck. _

‘’How’s Keats?’’ Beating the barely daring tongue to it, the young man interrupts the hardly focused enjoyment of poetry that maybe lasted about fifteen minutes.

‘’Good.’’ More wants to be added to the opinion, but cannot be shaped nor voiced due to the bafflement at seeing sincere interest pierce through an unwavering expression. On the other hand, another unnameable sentiment underlines attitude too, floating ever so slightly beneath the surface. 

‘’You haven’t touched your food.’’ Lips slightly pout when glancing at the paper bag that rests on the trenchcoat that had hastily been draped over the other arm rest when bleached locks sat down, colourful irises dimming. 

Worry.

_ Why does it affect him? What does it matter if I eat or not? _

To hopefully grant a bit of reassurance, an absent-minded promise is made before diving back into the misery of a nightingale. ‘’I’ll eat in a bit. Just one more poem.’’

As fast as lightning, the volume flies from hapless palms and the scent of books mingled with musky mint suddenly leans over to grab the purchased treat, fingertips pressing against the side of the thigh. Every muscle tenses up at the new form of intimacy, inwardly praying for the tartan blazer to return to his place as soon as possible. ‘’No, it’s already two o’clock and I’m sure you had breakfast early. You should eat. Where’s your coffee?’’

A trembling finger points to the untouched iced vanilla latte on the floor, put just in front of the sofa. Hands rise even higher when the bookshop keeper’s heartbeat and heated broad chest can be temporarily felt when slightly chubby digits lean over to grab the plastic cup. ‘’I’m not…’’

‘’What?’’ Clearly not understanding the need to keep looking away, unsteadily focusing on the sides of the nearest bookshelf, the question comes out agitated as the retrieved items are pushed forward, unmistakably intended to be taken. The shift in behaviour is as little comprehensible as the likely appearance of warm rosy cheeks going paired with a fist pressing on the lips, tongue-tied.

Mentally chastising oneself for the awkward display, courage is forcibly gathered to face the puzzled grumpy young man and answer with a whisper. ‘’I’m not comfortable eating in public.’’

‘’We’re not in public.’’

‘’Or with people I don’t know.’’

This revelation is clearly unexpected, eyes widening when reluctantly elaborating on an irrational fear with folded hands tucked between the thighs. For a second, there is nothing but an uncomfortable hush in which the worst outcome is vividly painted in the mind. Fortunately and oddly, it is broken as the stoic’s attitude shifts to something that has not been witnessed before and which goes against any rumour floating around town. 

A gentle smile plays around the corners of the mouth as the tense grip on the food and drink loosens, gently putting the rustling bag in the lap and a warm palm grabbing one hand to place the lukewarm cup in it. ‘’There. I’m Jaebeom, JB for short. Now, can you please eat something? And I promise I won’t judge you.’’

‘’Shouldn’t- Shouldn’t you eat something too? You look like you could use some energy.’’ Up close, the fatigue has become visibly noticeable outside the moment of sitting down and closing eyes for a little bit longer than would suffice for a blink. Affected by the niceness of the gentle acquaintance and thoughtfulness, the croissant in the bag is torn in half to offer a part to the current company. ‘’How about we share this?’’

‘’You don’t have to.’’ A low breathy chuckle rolls forth at the gesture, strangely elating the heart and stirring up a storm of butterflies in the stomach. Again, the same unintelligible phrase that was muttered under breath earlier seems to be repeated.

_ A penny for your thoughts. What did you say? _

Putting aside curiosity to not prematurely cross any boundaries of politeness, what wants to be asked is suppressed and reformed into a request for sharing. After all, the lack of energy outlined by vague dark circles beneath non-matching irises is truly a cause for concern. ‘’Please? I don’t have that big of an appetite.’’

With a resigning sigh, the offer is accepted. Much to the strange delight of the soul who still is not entirely trusting of the bookshop keeper yet already has the mental defenses down a little bit more than before. ‘’Alright, if you insist.’’

What follows is an absolutely adorable though also surprising scenario as the pastry is enjoyed in one bite, the food disappearing without any trouble. Nibbling on the other half, staring cannot be helped as a sip of coldbrew is enjoyed to wash the treat down. However, the unintended impolite mannerism, of course, cannot pass under the radar. Hence is why dark brows furrow in puzzlement when remarking upon being a point of attention. ‘’What?’’

‘’Nothing. You just…’’ a moment is taken to try and find the right word yet failing to think of one which accurately describes the eating manner, ‘’you just wolfed that down.’’

‘’Sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I can be a bit, well, unmannered at times.’’ The gaze focusing on the iced black coffee adds to the sorrowful side profile, unwillingly nostalgic, but unapproachable for comfort. ‘’I try not to be. I’m trying to, no, never mind.’’ Another sip. ‘’Forget it. Just eat and stay as long as you like.’’

‘’Jaebeom?’’ In a reflex, after swiftly wiping fatty fingertips on the coarse paper napkin, the bookshop keeper is grabbed by the sleeve as he tries to move away. Alarmed by the sudden bold move, non-matching irises briefly flare with an odd mixture of fear and annoyance before seemingly realizing something and thus calming down. All this goes hidden behind a badly enacted tolerating low hum. ‘’Can you, I mean, only if you don’t mind, could you... could you stay here? For a little while? At least sit down for a few more minutes. I promise I won’t stare as I did and actually read.’’

‘’You want me to... stay?’’ Dark brows furrow in a strange confusion, uncomprehending of the normal request. Although, perhaps it is not so casual seeing as it needs to be thought about. ‘’Stay? Here?’’

‘’If you don’t mind? I’m sorry if I freaked you out, I really didn’t mean to.’’

‘’You didn’t. I should be the one apologizing for being so distant.’’

‘’I don’t blame you. You barely know me.’’

‘’I don’t know you.’’ The observation hits hard, the sternness of the reply crucifying the heart and constricting the throat. How odd a fact should have this result. Withal, the misplaced hurt is a little soothed by the promise that follows. ‘’I’ll stay. But I’ll be closing in about two hours.’’

And thus, for one hour and a half, the paper kingdom falls quiet. Solely the tinkering tears of heaven decorating the glass of the windows, howling winds stirring the richly warm leaves into dance and occasional wandering lonely umbrella break the silence. Inside, the only noise to disrupt the hush is the turn of a page or sniffle that may or may not prelude to a cold. 

However, all tranquil beauty knows an end for Time always runs out. Henceforth, it is at half past four that a light tap goes paired with the barely audible comment “you have to go”. Likely due to the aftermath of being pulled from a world of poetic Nature into gloomy Reality, there is a wrong perception of Jaebeom’s voice. Surely, the sorrowful reluctance is imagined.

_ As you said, you don’t know me. _

The mere thought pains Body and Soul when grabbing the navy trenchcoat off of the faux leather arm rest, stepping towards the bookshelf where Keats was found and the exit afterwards. No chance of wandering a little longer between the books is given, the clerk following closely behind and unconsciously guiding feet towards the entrance.

‘’Y/N? Will you, uh…’’ Restless trembling palms hover in the air like two bent paws failing to illustrate something, a rosy flush spread over the cheeks, ‘’Can I put your jacket on? I mean, let me help you put your jacket on. That’s how you say it, right?’’

With an affirming hum, big palms with slightly chubby digits are allowed to help dress into the piece of clothing.

Glide over the side of the neck when collecting hair to make it flow over the collar instead of being tucked beneath it, leaving a trail of goosebumps and sharpening breath. 

All the while maintaining eye contact, both our faces distorting with timidity. It is then that glances are haphazardly thrown around the empty store to avoid each other for a second wherein composure is hopefully found. 

And it would appear that the buff tall blonde youth is the first to do so, speech matter-of-factly when voicing an unspoken suggestion while holding on to the upper arms. ‘’I haven’t even asked your name.’’

Bashfully, the answer is uttered in a proper vis-á-vis with entrancing two-toned irises though the urge to bolt out the door remains. Nevertheless, the rapid loss of contact is disliked, JB realizing how the intimacy might come across when glancing at the fingertips digging into fabric, almost begging to stay. ‘’It’s Y/N.’’

The instinct to flee is lessened by the step forward thoughtfully repeating the name, carefully feeling out the syllables as if comprehending a siren’s song. ‘’I had a good time, Y/N.’’

‘’Me too.’’ It is true because, despite the distance that was endeavoured to be closed with food, reading and shallow conversation, the time spent together was actually quite enjoyable. Notwithstanding, too much of the clerk remains unknown to say whether all has been out of politeness or if any sincere trust has been shown.

‘’Even though you’re still scared of me?’’

‘’I’m not!’’ A sigh rolls off the tongue at the sight of a smug grin on roseate lips knowing better than to lie about genuine sentiments. ‘You’re just... just kinda intimidating.’

‘’Kinda? To me it seems like a whole lot more than ‘just kinda’. You almost seem eager to go even though you were hesitating earlier.’’ Bright hazelnut and the summer sea are overcast by lonely grief putting on the airs of suppressed rage, painfully re-establishing and enhancing the distance that was briefly shortened with a step backwards. ‘’To get away from me. Make up your mind.’’

‘’Yes, I’m intimidated by you. A lot.’’ The renewed cold emptiness is warily bridged, planning out the words to say to not make matters worse. ‘’And, to be honest, I don’t want to go. Still, it’s because you intimidate me I might seem uneasy and glad to go, but I can assure you I’m not. I really had a good time. We might not have talked a lot, but I still had a splendid afternoon. With you. And for that, I’m grateful. I’m sorry I confuse you, make you feel awkward because of my behaviour.’’

The waterfall of a confession catches the bookshop keeper off guard, but also manages to make tense broad shoulders lower their defenses as colourful eyes calm down. Digits rise from the pockets of loose ripped jeans to envelop the upper arms once more, this time rubbing them reassuringly and let the personal walls crumble too. ‘You don’t have to be afraid of me nor apologize. Look, we’ll talk about this another time. For now, you have to go and I have to close the shop. Get home safely and don’t catch a cold.’

‘’You too.’’ 

‘’Don’t worry. I won’t.’’

With a last nod and gentle smile relieved at the prospect of good health, warm palms are stepped away from.

The watery autumn chill cools the heat from being seen off by blonde locks.

***

_ I couldn’t get sick even if I wanted to. _

When the enchanting scent of summer citrus, autumnal blackberries and juicy peaches has faded, the two volumes that were touched by it are picked from the shelves without a clear understanding of why. Neither is there a sense of comprehension when it comes to the sheer curiosity about what it is that the adorable shy doe so likes about these specific poets. Notwithstanding, both books are picked up and put on the counter alongside the current read to take upstairs after sweeping and properly closing the shop.

Which does not take long, soon after already stumbling up the metal stairs to the apartment above the establishment with a famished stomach and tense muscles, watching the oppressive concrete clouds slightly give way to the lilac dusk before heading inside. Fortunately, dinner has been prepared in advance so the various side dishes solely need to be warmed up in the microwave just like the rice in the cooker. The hair dye job, however, will have to wait until tomorrow. That is, if it is remembered like the face of the local historian who seems awfully fascinated by the affliction distorting identity.

Shedding off the weight of the day, clothes are removed and tossed on the couch to be replaced by the bathrobe that was put there in the morning after yet another long night filled with amnesia. Afterwards, bare feet trod to the kitchen to retrieve the cold dishes from the refrigerator and put them in the microwave to heat up. 

_ It’s getting late, but at least there’s still some time to read. Funny how my last thought is of you. _

Just as the melancholic thought arises over a big bowl of bibimbap accompanied by William Blake’s  _ Songs of Innocence and Experience _ , the screen of the phone on the counter lights up after a brief buzz. When getting up to check, the message appears to be from the supernatural scholar.

“Good luck tonight. I’ll be at your place around 7. Hopefully, you’ll be yourself again. If not, I’ll wait outside. Jinyoung.”

As always, the text is signed with the young man’s name to help ease the recovery of ever-fading memory. Even after living around three years among humans again, the ability to recall actual names alongside how to enact civilized behaviour remains hard.

And becomes more difficult with every passing day.

_ For now, I want to try. I want to speak to you at least one more time and explain myself. Part ways on good terms, let you know what I am. _

A smile cannot be helped at the sight of the bowl next to the mustard poetry bundle, vividly re-imagining how it was held by small hands on the faux leather sofa this afternoon. 

How those same tiny digits tore off half of the croissant without hesitation and offered it to an animal, nibbling adorably on theirs while endeavouring to put on a human act and failing due to the hunger always preceding hell.

But a fantasy never lasts.

Time never stops.

It solely ticks.

Runs out.

_ Hopefully, I’ll remember you. _

And the moon cannot be sworn by for She cannot stay away nor remain the same. 

That night, the name of the bookish fawn is the last powerful word to recall before losing a grip on the world in the cold dark illuminated by artificial light. 

Naked and shackled beneath the concrete ground.

Hoping for a memory. 

_ Y/N. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Jaebeom's POV.

The world is made up of scents, dividing it into different territories belonging to the various wolves living in the concrete forest and outside it. There is no possibility of being mistaken when it comes to misplaced ones, intruders always being somewhere nearby and bound to try to steal what is rightfully another’s. 

Even here in the cold shadows of the basement where someone has shackled my paws again, there is a beating heart skulking around and spreading the fruity scent of grapefruit, green apple, mandarin and birch leaves. However, there is a curious undertone that seems oppressed. By what, I don’t know yet it smells oddly wolfish. 

‘’Jaebeom? Are you back yet?” This has to be the most idiotic intruder of all times, giving himself away like this. Wait, no, it’s a human male despite the weird scent on him so there’s no way of being here to gain ground for another alpha. Still, trespassing won’t go unpunished. 

_Who is that? Jae... Jaebeom? There is no one by that name here._

Behind the bars, appears a young man with a button nose and short black hair effortlessly blending into the darkness. That is, were it not for the blasted spotlight shining directly into my eyes the second after and blinding lights turning on yet another one later. Already agitated nerves are on fire thanks to the overwhelming stimulation, barely refraining from stirring tense muscles into action to devour the prey.

“Jaebeom, it’s morning already.” As if it should mean something, the stranger assumes a punishing tone. However, it flows over in some kind of strange concern, lips forming a straight line as a troubled expression forms. “This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t still be like this.”

_Be like this? Oh, the bastard’s got some nerve. Of course, I am like this._

I am an alpha. 

Not the human’s friend nor the name. 

Besides, what reason is there to change? Why is it needed? The answer is simple: it isn’t. In fact, maybe he needs to change. 

Into a bloody pile of flesh and bone. 

“Fuck, you’re really stuck,” he groans, sighing deeply.

_Get over here, you coward. Don’t just stand there like a pup._

“Beom, I know you’re in there somewhere. Remember me?” Desperate for whoever the nickname is, the intruder resorts to pleading as he kneels down on the other side. “It’s me, Jinyoung.” 

_No. Now stop talking and fight me!_

The attempt at pouncing on the unknown boy fails, resulting in being almost choked by the iron collar around my neck. Nevertheless, the failure has the amusing result of seeing doe-like eyes widen in shock and Jinyoung flinching backwards like a fearful bunny. The show of terror naturally evokes a giggle for there is no finer amusement than a prey’s terror. 

Unfortunately, this one won’t shut up, clearly forcing words out of the throat that should have been ripped out a second ago. “This isn’t you. Remember what you told me? That you wanted to try to be human again?”

_I never told you anything. I don’t know you and I don’t want you around. So, fuck off. This is my territory._

“Stop doing that or you’ll seriously hurt yourself!” Growling temporarily completely shuts the intruder up, howbeit for a mere blissful second. “Listen-’’

A new attempt at lurching forward, sick of these human games, fails again. Thus, defeated for the moment and devoid of breath, I sink to the ground. I’ll have to endure the human male’s useless chatter until another opportunity of escape presents itself. 

“Stop it and listen to me!” Rather unexpectedly, Jinyoung’s attitude transforms. Hands bald into fists as eyes are alight with anger, ready to start a fight if necessary. 

Perfect. 

Still, if one of us should be raging, it should be me. He should be running.

If only these chains were not here.

If only. 

_Oh, look at who has a spine out of a sudden. Maybe not a cowardly pup after all._

“Your name is Im Jaebeom. You’re twenty-six and you run a bookshop called _Paper Souls_. I’m Jinyoung, the local supernatural historian and your friend. I’m also the one who looks into your condition and tries to find an answer as to why you’re continuously stuck like this.”

_Stuck like this? I’m a wolf, not a human. Shut up and free me so I can kill you!_

“JB, you’re not a full wolf! Not yet, anyways. You’re a man who has to lock himself here every full moon. And it doesn’t help that it coincides with your rut this time.” Arms cross in defiance, a deep sigh resonating in the concrete stillness. Again, the odd concern filters through the faked tough exterior. 

_My rut is none of your fucking business... and neither is she._

Despite the irritating theatrics, the remark does spark a memory. 

Right, there was a very nicely smelling human lady. Was that yesterday? 

Maybe.

No.

Yes.

A faint image of a face floats to the surface of memory, but it is not clear nor does it sharpen. It’s blurry, though the memory of a small frame and the scent of summer citrus, autumnal blackberries, and juicy peaches remain vividly engraved in my mind. 

Enough so to conjure a tempting image of having it pinned to the ground while forcibly whelping pups on trembling legs, holding the enchanting yet clearly weaker nymph down.

_The lady. She will mother my pups. No, I shouldn’t force her to. Why? Why can’t I? No, it’s wrong. Con... what’s the word? Consent. The lady has to consent._

Where does the wolf end and the man begin?

Out of the blue, a sharp pain like a sword sinking into flesh spreads throughout my body. Bones elongate, break, and reconnect. Muscles do the same, snapping and reattaching themselves after weaving about the skeleton in a new way. Canines pull back into the gums, the headache feeling as if I’m being trepanned. Fur retracts to reveal human skin, the only hint of it ever having been there being thin dark hairs covering arms and legs alongside a happy trail and some armpit hair. All screams of agony are muffled, vocal cords transforming and making speaking impossible.

Until they have found their other form.

The human disguise.

“Jinyoung?” Forming the name takes some mental effort, carefully pronouncing the syllables to make certain all of the Wolf is subdued.

For now, at least. 

“Do you remember?” With a trace of wary distrust, the local historian produces a key from his pockets. 

“Yes. Yes, I do.” Although the mind is split between two egos, the human one has to win. If only to breathe more regularly and think clearly. “Just... just give me a moment.”

A few more seconds to make sure I’m safe. 

“Whatever you need. I’ll go get your robe.” With a curt nod, the young man leaves for the small front room mockingly deemed a ‘dressing room’. A poorly chosen name, considering the jail is actually one. The place where the animal sheds its sheep’s clothing. 

_I’m Im Jaebeom, JB for short and a bookshop keeper. I’m twenty-six. A werewolf. He’s Jinyoung, a friend. It’s autumn._

After a moment, the caretaker returns with the heavy soft navy bathrobe that has seen every transformation so far. The screeching of the cell door is agonizingly loud in the basement hush. Instinctively, I claw at the floor with my nails as I cringe in a reflex triggered by the noise like scratching a blackboard. 

I accept the muttered excuse as he removes the heavy weight of the iron chains and collar, lowly grunting instead of remembering the proper words to use. After all, it couldn’t be helped. 

Regardless of the freedom I’m given once more, it feels undeserved because it is only a matter of time before the very same restrictions should become permanent.

_But not today. Not yet._

“Can you stand?” A helping hand is already outstretched before the question is finished, dark eyes tainted by a motherly worry.

_Don’t look at me like that. I’m a wolf, proud. No, I’m human. A man. But still, you shouldn’t care for me. I’m a time bomb._

“I… I think so.” 

Despite willing myself to get on my bare feet, I gladly accept the offered help by catching Jinyoung’s hand before I topple over. Walking on two paws instead of four is never easy. Henceforth, with one arm wrapped around the waist after being dressed, we stumble upstairs. 

The daylight, regardless of the autumn gloom, hurts since the wolf is used to the dark and artificial lighting. The wind carries the promise of rain, likely in an hour if my instinct is not mistaken. However, it is underlined with a familiar scent quite unlike the decay of the colourful carpet of leaves on the pavement. 

Summer citrus, autumnal blackberries, and juicy peaches.

_Mate._

As if struck by lightning, senses sharpen in a frenzy to find the source of the entrancing fragrance, gaze shooting back and forth over the empty street. It’s definitely close. Around the corner, in fact. 

So close. 

Sensing the ache that makes muscles tense with the urge to lunge forward to claim the pretty woman to whom the scent belongs, Jinyoung transforms from a helper into an obstacle. Hands tighten around the biceps, struggling to keep me in place in spite of the plastic bag they hold yet keeping up the fight. Expression troubled, he scans my territory to discover what’s roused the change in attitude. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“Get off of me!” With ease, the tables turn. I grab the spineless pup and fling him over my shoulder. As a result, the intruder is left gasping on the pavement without the least bit of remorse. 

“No, calm down!” 

The victory proves to be momentary since the intruder scrabbles to his feet. The rough concrete has left its mark, dust gathered in smudges on the formerly crisp white shirt and the vague iron scent of blood coming from the grazes on his back where the rougher patches have left their mark. Nevertheless, damaged arms protrude over the shoulders and cross over the upper chest, desperately trying to impair my movement by pulling me backwards. He throws his weight on me when the attempt threatens to prove futile. “Control yourself! You’ll ruin her!”

_Says the bastard who’s also close to his rut. But she’s mine._

Even though it’s not as strong as mine, the musk emanating from the pup is unmistakably a sign of nearing the season. I do wonder, though, how he isn’t truly affected by his instinct nor how it’s possible I missed his presence in this part of town.

“I need her, need her for my pups,’’ I growl, trying to wrestle free. ‘’Wanna mate. Mate her.”

“She’s human.” He makes it sound as if the detail is significant, as if it has obvious dangerous implications. 

But she will be safe with me. So I continue to struggle, hoping to thrash around enough to eventually slip away. “Doesn’t matter. I want her. Let me go to her before-’’

_She’s gone._

Like the clouds forebode, the first raindrops start to fall, turning the tiles a darker shade of grey and decorating the leaves in shades of mustard, crimson and earth with tiny crystals. The fruity scent fades, replaced by the hint of a coming storm.

And mine passes.

The alarming wheezing shallow breaths behind me fall silent with a relieved sigh as my friend... yes, my friend loosens his hold on me. Gut twisted with guilt, I slowly turn around to face him.

For a second, there is nothing but a rainy hush between us in which I try to remember his name, fortunately soon remembering it and hopefully hiding how far gone I actually am. “Jinyoung... what just happened, I didn’t-’’

“I know, Beom.” The playful slap on the upper arm is weak, a laughable attempt at amiability. “It’s your rut.”

_We both know it’s more than that. But it does make it worse._

“Are you okay?” Feeling horrible and wanting to show it, I lower my head in a show of submission and make myself as small as possible. Even a wolf has to set its pride aside every now and then when it comes to fellow pack members.

Friends. He isn’t a wolf.

Although, he strangely smells like one howbeit faintly. Twisted, as if something is tried to be resisted. 

“I’ll be fine. Guess we’re both a little broken this morning.” Jinyoung puts his hands on my shoulders, pushing them back to forcibly straighten my posture. “You’re not a wolf now. Human, remember?”

“I’m sorry.” It comes out on a high-pitched remorseful whine, sounding more animal-like rather than how a person would actually say it. 

“Don’t be. C’mon, let’s go upstairs and get you something to eat.” He shakes the plastic bag in his hand. “I stayed up late cooking for you and don’t you dare to let it go to waste.”

_Fish. Tuna and squid. Spicy._

The delicious scent is enough to make my mouth water. However, we shouldn’t forget what happened and pass it off as casually as Jinyoung tries to do. “But I floored you.”

“As you have many a time.” We set off up the stairs to the apartment, the wet metal cold under my feet.

_Step by step. One foot before the other._

“Have I?” Despite focusing on walking, the remark sets the hairs on the back of the neck on edge. 

“Yes,” The young man answers nonchalantly, carrying on as if it’s one of the most natural things in the world. 

We have reached the top and he opens the front door with the key connected to a thin chain around his neck. 

“Even in wolf form?” Humming in agreement, he gestures for me to go inside. I shuffle past him, tightening the blanket around my shoulders. “But I’ve never bitten you, right?”

“No, you haven’t.” The front door closes. The supernatural scholar moves to the kitchen, a formerly unnoticed briny tone underlining his fresh cologne and that other curious scent on him. Perhaps he watched the sunrise at the beach. Although, is he a morning person?

I can’t remember.

Just as I can’t remember enough to be sure he isn’t lying. Then again, what reason would he have to do so for there is nothing to gain from an amnesiac. 

Jinyoung pulls various Tupperware containers from the bag and starts to prepare breakfast, still unbothered by the circumstances. “Go shower. Food will be ready by the time you’re done.”

“Yeah. Good,” I mumble to myself, still influenced by the other side of the ego. “No bite. That’s good.”

I walk up the stairs to the second storey, mindful of the steps on the way, and go to the bathroom. On the edge of the sink is a bottle of blue hair dye.

_What’s that doing here?_

There is no point in trying to get the colour in my hair now because one look in the mirror tells of blonde locks having returned to a shade of basalt. If I shaved yesterday, it’s been of no use since a thin moustache has grown again. 

_One step closer to being myself again._

In the past, before the years in the woods and occasionally even now, I try to change my appearance to remove myself from the wolf within. While they are mostly small tweaks like a different hair colour, a new style of clothing or letting my facial and body hair grow a bit, they do feel helpful to blend in with humans better.

But he always comes back so I forget how to be normal again. 

In the end, I can’t outrun myself.

Where does the wolf end and the man begin?

I don’t know.

I turn on the shower and hop in, cherishing the steamy warmth of the water. It’s a pleasant change from the bitter dark cold of the basement, the chill of the chains, the feral thoughts echoing loudly off of the bare walls. I shake my head, dismissing the thoughts about what has to be committed to in the space beneath the bookshop.

The shop. The fruity scent. The lady.

Mate.

Hormones are an issue even for wolves, especially when the season comes around. The faceless nymph, unfortunately, came around at the wrong time so now the mind solely reels with the image of her in an inappropriate manner.

_What did we do that day? Surely, there has to be another memory of you. Not just your... your sce- scent…_

The trails of water drops sliding down skin, down my fur gain a body. The enthralling fruity scent permeates the distracting steam, a set of small fingertips emerging from it and tracing the trail formed by a few hairs on the stomach. 

Slender fingers barely manage to wrap around me, unafraid of the inhuman shape. Bashfully, the nymph worships it with chaste kisses and teasing touches, all the while putting up the faked expression of an innocent doe. 

Until she provokes the beast within when finally taking me into her mouth. 

Or, rather, when I force myself into it.

Tears start to brim on the edge of lashes of imagined eyes, salty mascara brooks streaking delicate cheeks as hips lose control, spurred on by primal ecstasy. Whoever the fantasy truly is, her phantom nails rake down the thighs and leave me branded. Dizzy on the sensually violent thought of a scent. 

“You want this, a real alpha?” I chuckle at the gagging sound, the obedient whine not protesting being pulled flush against the abdomen while being used as a toy. “I don’t, hrm, fuck, know you, but I’ve never wanted to fucking mate so badly. I want to ruin you, claim you, mark you as mine. My territory.”

Hips lose control as reason fades, each rising sliver of slight clarity focused on primal pleasure. However, a part of humanity remains and tries to recompose the face of the unknown nymph. It wants a name, but most of all a clear image.

A memory.

It’s absurd, satirical in the face of behaving like an animal. No, not just acting like one.

I am a wolf.

_Yet you make me want to... could pup her if I’m quick... no._

A knot starts to form, fueled by the wet warmth and begging for release, painfully throbbing. The sound of water fades to the background while sloppy slurping increases in volume. 

“God, you really want it, don’t you?” I huff, gathering every remaining sliver of the ability to talk. 

Although, why do I bother? I’m not a man. 

_No, I have to try. Try again._

Clinging to that notion, everything goes black as the leash on reality snaps by a cheeky sweep of the thumb over the tip. The growling stops, replaced by a loud unintelligible scream of pleasure as sticky white spreads over fingers.

Hands. Not paws.

I am human.

_At least until I remember who you are._

***

The following two days pass in a limbo of cold chains, gloomy skies, and a bad memory. The bookshop sees no customers, the only thought lingering between the shelves being that whoever was here the day before yesterday won’t come back. I think she could have been the reason for the two books on the dining table Jinyoung pointed out after showering and losing it over a mere fantasy. I’ve fairly kept in control of myself since, but the lady’s scent remains on my mind.

Letting in some fresh air is never a bad idea, so I put down my book to open the window next to the till. Outside, the wind is blowing mildly in comparison to yesterday when the streets were empty thanks to a storm. The formerly faint, in human terms, sound of footsteps increases as the outside world is let in. Fortunately, there aren’t many people on the streets nowadays because on an average day with good weather, there’s the noise of shoes on the pavement and the nauseating mix of various scents, both human and inhuman. However, the urban October quietness is always welcome. 

Delighted it has come again, I sniff the air. “No rain.”

But I take another whiff because of a strange fruity undertone which is slowly becoming stronger.

_I know what it is, but what is it again?_

Summer citrus, autumnal blackberries, and juicy peaches.

_The lady!_

Just as the thought arises, a small frame passes by. I jump up, toss William Blake’s _Songs of Innocence and Experience_ on the counter and sprint out the door.

Only to briefly dash back in to grab my jacket to blend in with the other humans wearing autumn resistant outerwear. Not everyone can rely on a consistently high body heat, humans least of all.

“Ma’am? Ma’am!” I shout at the disappearing woman, who fortunately stops to turn around. After a second of hesitation, the low heels of black flats clack as they walk back.

“Jaebeom?” Hearing her say my name ignites a strange joy, leaving me buzzing and wagging my tail. 

Had I been a wolf, I would have wagged my tail.

I am human, a man who is puzzled by how a stranger knows his name. 

_You... You know me? How?_

“I’m sorry, have we met?” I furrow my brows in confusion when she comes to a stop in front of me, reaching up to my chest.

_Small. Cute._

“Yes, five days ago.” An oddly disappointed sad smile darkens the lady’s expression, dim eyes averting to the window display as she continues on a barely audible tone. “You bought me coffee. Thanks for that, by the way.”

An anxious stinging accent creeps into her scent, a quickening heartbeat thrumming in my ears. 

_Do I scare you?_

“My memory is a sieve. Could you tell me your name again? I promise to remember it.”

Now it’s her turn to be puzzled, though the somberness remains noticeable despite mixing with confusion. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N...” I let the name sink in, quietly mumbling and forming the syllables in the hopes repetition will help in shaping a missing memory. Which it does, although it is fragmentary. Nothing but flashes, traces of an obscured past. 

_Vanilla latte. A pastry... I don’t know, something sweet. Books. There were shelves. You were at the shop. I wish, no, I want to remember this._

But I can’t.

I can’t recall what is important to her, to us.

I can’t remember the connection.

“Could we, um, do you want to grab a coffee and something to eat? We can drop by _Icarus_ and eat in the park. If you want, that is.”

_Please say yes._

“But you… have your store.” She dismissively shakes her head, scenting the wind with the lovely scent of argan oil. Teeth bite down on the bottom lip, wondering how to politely decline the offer. “You don’t- I’d keep you... I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.”

“I’m not,” I assure her, my voice perhaps louder than is necessary. Too loud, judging by the shock in wide eyes staring back at me. So I lower my volume, trying to contain the excitement despite feeling triumphant with joy. “Besides, the shop doesn’t matter. Business has been slow anyway. C’mon, my treat.’ 

_If I bite down on her collar and drag her along she’ll definitely think I’m weird. How do male humans do this again?_

Hardly knowing what else to do, I firmly grab her hand and lean in a bit. “Let me say sorry.”

“Oh!” Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, Y/N tangibly panicks at the apparently too rash action. Nevertheless, she tries to play it off casually. “Well, a- alright, then.”

“I’m being too straightforward, aren’t I?” I look from our hands to her and bow my head in submission. 

Apology. 

I bow my head in apology. 

That’s what humans do. 

“Just a bit.” The giggle is awkward, but tender.

“How do males normally do this again?” Carefully, I lock my gaze with hers. However, it’s only when a slight smile starts to form that I straighten my back like Jinyoung taught me. 

“Males?’’ Head tilted to the side, an eyebrow rises in puzzlement. ‘’Don’t you mean _men_?” 

“Yes, that’s what I mean. Sorry for being so weird. How do men normally do this? Or, rather, what would you like me to do?”

“I’d be more comfortable holding your arm. Holding hands is, no offence, a bit… a bit too much.”

As per Y/N’s wish, I let go of her small hand and offer my arm instead. The autumn wind regrettably erases the imprint of her warmth on my skin, but if this is what makes her feel comfortable around me then this is what I’ll do. Henceforth, I bask in the presence of thin fingers wrapping around my forearm, holding it gently as if holding on any tighter will make me pull back. Even if she did. I won’t, because she’ll never have the strength to actually hurt me. Vice versa it’s a different story, a dreadful tale I refuse tot think about. 

Today, I’m Y/N’s gentleman. Her date.

I’m her man. 

At least for the coming hours. 

A girlish giggle pulls me back from my reverie, the sound spreading a pleasant warmth throughout and filling me with protective affection. “Better?”

“Yes.” Y/N holds on a little tighter, snuggling up to me with a pleased hum as we walk further down the street. “You’re really warm.”

“I’m a walking furnace,” I joke, poorly disguising the truth under a guise of humour. Wolves are warm-blooded beasts, a trait which comes in handy when taking care of your mate.

_She isn’t that. Y/N... Y/N’s simply someone I just met. For the second time, but still. Let’s meet for a long time._

I put my hands in my pockets, look up at the sky and sniff the fresh air.

Being human again isn’t so bad.

***

As expected on an autumn day, _Icarus_ is packed with people sheltering themselves from the chilly wind and wet dead leaves. All the seats by the big window at the front of the café are already taken. One person is working on his laptop. A couple is huddled together with their hands wrapped around the ceramic rustic mugs to warm up. The girl on the far right is drawing on her tablet. Behind them, a queue has formed in front of the white wooden counter and fills up the rest of the small space.

“It’s quite busy, innit?” We come to a halt in front of the entrance, the reluctance to enter emanating from the slight pull on my sleeve. “Maybe we could just go to the park straight away. It’s fine, I’m not hungry.”

A low grumbling noise tells otherwise, though Y/N acts as if she didn’t hear it. Unfortunately for her, I have and I refuse to let her go hungry. 

“How about you wait here and I go in? What would you like?” I glance at the menu board, which advertises the return of the cinnamon bun and pine-smoked venison sandwich. Just the mere notice of the food is enough to make my mouth water. “Meat...”

“Pardon?”

“What? Oh, uh, nothing.” I clear my throat to even out my tone because my own empty stomach conjures the other side of the ego which has to remain hidden today. “I think I’ll get a venison sandwich, maybe two, and an americano.”

“Two?” She looks at me as if I just told her about a ridiculous plan to take over the world. 

“Yes,” I shrug nonchalantly as I come up with a half-truth, “I’m a big guy, so I need lots of energy. How about you?”

“An iced vanilla latte would be nice.”

_Did you have that when we met? I remember something sweet. Must have been vanilla._

“And for lunch?’’ Before parted lips can protest, I clarify myself to give her no choice because she looks awfully eager to decline. ‘’Actual food, I mean.”

“Do they have anything vegetarian?” Regardless of the hesitance marked across her face, aware of the fact she won’t get out of this, she sighs and gives in.

“Not that I know, but I’ll ask if they do. Anything I shouldn’t get? Like, veggies you’d rather throw at my head than eat?”

I’m terribly awkward and aware of it. However, it relaxes Y/N, who chuckles at the stupid joke. “Cauliflower, fennel, celery and red cabbage. You get me those on a sandwich and I just might throw them at you.”

“Noted, ma’am.” I lean in, acting out of instinct and mesmerization with the twinkle in her eyes that draws me in. Yet, I prevent myself from acting on the nagging urge to kiss her forehead and lamely ruffle her hair instead. “I’ll be right back.”

Inside, the murmurs of various voices and mixture of scents is mind-boggling in a nauseating manner. Normally, it doesn’t affect me as much, but the rut heightens the senses further than the wolf already does to a point where the continuous overstimulation is irritating at best and sickening at the worst. Any which way, it is the indisputable cause for a shorter temper and overall bad mood that only can be softened by friends and family.

And her.

Y/N.

My pretty mate.

_Date. Get it into your head. She’s your date._

“Hi, can I help you?” A low husky voice interrupts the stern train of thought. Behind the counter, dark round eyes watch me in anticipation of an answer. 

The brown-haired barista looks familiar. In the back of my head, there’s a blurry image of the long nose and chiselled oval face yet I can’t sharpen it. However, his scent gives away he is a wolf and considering there aren’t many of us left, it’s likely I actually know him.

_What’s your name again?_

“Jaebeom, it’s me, Jackson.” I must look confused enough to prompt the other man to introduce himself again. If only to make me stop squinting at him. “Your local beta barista,” he adds, laughing.

_Beta... yeah, I remember. Well, somewhat._

I only remember we met shortly after I arrived in town, back from the woods and no longer accustomed to being human. And there was someone else. Someone introduced us to each other.

Jinyoung. He recommended moving into this neighbourhood to create a centralized urban pack. Other than that, I don’t know where we stand in relation to one another although his amiable behaviour tells me we’re friends. Notwithstanding, to what degree, I do not know.

“Right... Jackson,” I murmur, approaching him.

“You don’t remember, do you?” The beaming smile fades, growing into a disappointed sliver of itself. Nonetheless, the gloomy mood evaporates like snow before the sun and is replaced by a devilish attitude when he leans in to sniff me. “You smell different, more... human. Womanly.” He leans back, smirking. “My, I didn’t think you were the fruity kind of guy.”

I grit my teeth, annoyed by the suggestive comment. “Shut it.”

“Is it the girl standing outside?” Jackson glances behind my back towards the window and I follow his gaze. 

Y/N leans against the street light, arms crossed with an expression of discomfort on her face. Our eyes briefly meet when she glances inside, holding the unspoken question of what’s taking me so long in her gaze. Funny how she can so easily distract me.

_What was I supposed to get you? Oh, right. An iced vanilla latte and a vegetarian sandwich._

“Oh, yup, it’s definitely her,” the barista remarks playfully. “What’s her name?”

“None of your business. We’re just friends.” There is no way I’ll share Y/N with him nor even give him a chance. She’s mine. “Can I get an iced-’’

“Fine, I’ll ask her myself. After all, if you’re ‘just friends’, you wouldn’t be opposed to me asking her out?” I bald my fist and slam it on the counter, accidentally startling the couple by the window. The annoyance worsens to a barely containable rage, fueled by wolfish possessiveness towards and protectiveness over my woman. The barista, regardless of the obvious clue to shut up, happily keeps talking. “She’s a nice-looking human girl.”

“Don’t you fucking come near her!” My voice has distorted to growling, unable to contain the beast within, the real me. The first shivers of transformation start to ripple through the muscles, begging for painful change. 

_One more word and I’ll shut your mouth for you._

“Are you sure you’re ‘just friends’?” Oh, how I’d love to punch that sarcastic inquiring eyebrow. Yet, I don’t because causing a scene will definitely have consequences.

_And you might hate me, think me a mindless beast. I’ll lose you, forever gone like all the memories I’ve already forgotten._

She will become a ghost of the past, another spirit in a faint echo. 

“One iced vanilla latte and one iced americano. Also, two venison sandwiches and a vegetarian one for her.” The order comes out through gritted teeth, knuckles turning white and aching as I clench the counter, fighting the simmering escape of raging claws forming beneath the surface. “Remember your place.”

_I’ll rip your throat out if you don’t._

Jackson scoffs, pouting like a pup. “Man, I’ve seen you grumpy, but your rut makes you like a time bomb.” But the sour childish expression rapidly turns into a knowing devilish one. “Although, this is on a whole other level. Are you in love?”

_One more comment and you’re done for._

“Jackson. Coffee. Food. Now.” I look over my shoulder to make sure Y/N didn’t see anything. Fortunately, she’s still leaning against the lamppost and looking around the street. Like a modern painting of autumn, a woman waiting for her lover in a landscape of burnt orange and crimson as the wind gently blows through her hair.

_Pretty, really pretty._

“Whatever you say, man, the barista mumbles to himself. “Loverboy.”

And that one mocking response erases the peace of mind the adorably beautiful lady outside gives me. 

“I heard that!” I suppress the urge to lunge at the man, forcing myself to count to ten to control the violent sea rippling through my flesh. 

_I’m not going back to the way I was. The woods are behind me. I’m human. Human. Not a wolf. If I lose it now, I’ll hurt her and forget myself even faster._

While the beta is preparing the order, I try to regain composure by doing breathing exercises and downing the second dose of pills Jinyoung gave me this morning. According to him, they’re suppressants which contain a mix of nightshade and silver that should be enough to prevent the transformation. Moreover, it should lessen the effect of my hormones on the rut. He called them ‘chill pills’, laughing at the name, but the joke passed me by.

After a little while, Jackson puts down a brown cardboard carrier on the counter filled with the coffees and three bundles of bread smelling of venison and hummus. Judging by the smell, none of the vegetables Y/N dislikes have been used.

_Good. Saves us time._

Otherwise, I would have sent the barista back to the kitchen to start over. After a firm kick in the arse, of course.

With a cheeky good luck wish, I retrieve the order and go back outside. Y/N slowly walks up to me, looking troubled and thus worrying me like a mother worried for her child. “What happened inside? I heard some muffled argument.”

Instead of answering immediately, I grab her hand and pull her along the pavement as what happened inside replays itself in mind. The irritation boils hot in my blood, sight growing crimson. “If you ever see that barista at work. Don’t. Come. Near him. Understood?”

“JB, you’re hurting me!”

“What?” At the pained outcry, I stop immeditaely stop in my tracks to check on Y/N, who is holding her left wrist while looking at our hands. Hers has grown as pale as ice thanks to the iron grip which she futilely attempts to escape by weakly jerking away. Swiftly, I let go and take a step back, shocked by my own behaviour. “I- I didn’t- Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Tears brimming on the edge of her lashes, she rubs her wrist. 

“It’s not!” The fragility of her attitude adds to the self-disgust. Burning throat choked up, I merely look at her, powerless at the frigid undertone in her scent.

“Jaebeom,” she sets a step closer to close the distance and puts an assuring hand on my arm, “it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry.” I bow my head, ashamed. Tail tucked between my legs, I bury my face in the side of her neck instead of lying down and showing her my stomach in surrender. “Sorry.”

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t flinch even as I lightly run my tongue over her skin. “Uhm, Jaebeom? Did- Did you just, uhm, lick... lick me?”

“Yes.” Gently, I take her hand in my paw.

Human. 

Hand.

I dart upright, blabbering an excuse to save my hide and doing a poor job at it. “I- I mean, no! No, I didn’t. Not intentionally.”

_Well, it was intentional, but you don’t need to know that._

I calm down a bit, letting out a deep sigh as I try to regain composure. A question forms as my mind stops racing. While it is simple, it’s important. 

And horribly terrifying to ask. “Are you gonna go? Go away, I mean.”

“What do you mean?” Tone uncertain, she looks at me blankly.

“Is this goodbye already?” I rub the ground with my shoe, afraid like a pup about to be abandoned. “Because I licked you and I am awkward?”

“Don’t be silly. Yes, I think you’re a little weird.” Her eyes widen at the words. “Oh, God, I mean that in the best possible way, I promise. Please don’t be offended.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not. It’s true, after all.” The bitter smile hardly hides the disappointment in myself nor the heaviness anchoring me in a lonesome place.

I messed up.

I don’t know how to do this anymore.

This isn’t my world. 

“Well, you say so. However, I like it. I like...” The unfinished sentence ends in a breathless girlish giggle. A faint rosy flush colours her cheeks as she averts her gaze.

“What is it?”

“Be- being with you. I like being with you.”

The world stops spinning, shrinking to where we stand among the autumn leaves. There’s no one else, all people fading into blurry passing ghosts as the sounds of the town transform into mere background noise.

She is the company to cure the loneliness.

The moon to the wolf. 

Yes, being human again isn’t so bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Jaebeom's POV.

_I like being with you._

The phrase vividly repeats itself as I blindly lead us to the park, my head in the clouds. So much so, in fact, she has to stop in her tracks and pull me back because we have walked past the entrance.

“Jaebeom,” she struggles to draw me in, firming her grip on my arm and weakly pulling on it, “we’re here already.”

It takes a second to register what Y/N says, but after a few haphazard glances around to see where we are, it does. “Ah, right.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Nobody’s ever told me that.’’ Like a lovesick puppy, I bite down on my bottom lip. ‘’That they like to be with me, I mean.”

“Surely I’m not the first.”

“I think Jinyoung, a friend, might have said it.” I shrug, resigned in the fact loneliness has been a steady companion.

The packs in the woods rejected me if I didn’t refuse to join them. Too savage, too beastly, too ambitious, too bloodthirsty. Those are the prime reasons I have been on my own, although one in particular resonates in the blurry mess of vague memories. 

I am too monstrous.

“But I,” halted in the middle of the gravel path, I turn to her and rest my forehead against hers, “like being with you too.”

Her heartbeat speeds up as her scent gains a floral, roseate undertone. A flush stains her cheeks, the temperature of her body heightened. In a moment’s notice, she has turned into a beautiful spring flower. No, not a flower. Y/N is more than that.

Like a she-wolf in spring. 

In season. 

That’s what she looks like.

_So pretty. Mine._

I have to pull away before I sweep her off her feet and mate her against the first tree we come across. We don’t even need a tree, a simple bed of grass will suffice. After all, I still want her to be comfortable.

“Did... Did you dye your hair?” Flustered, looking like a lobster, the pretty lady pulls away. However, the growl that erupts from the throat as she moves away brings an interesting change to her scent.

A thick heady tone creeps into it, which definitely puts the girl in the other role the other ego wishes her to play.

A bitch in heat.

An image of her looking as she does now but on my bed flashes by. Tears are brimming on her lashes like crystalline raindrops as pearly teeth bite down on a finger in the futile attempt to mute meek high-pitched squeals of pleasure. She’s lying sideways, the soft skin of her leg on my shoulder while my hips lose control in her warmth.

“J- Jaebeom?”

I suck in a sharp breath, though it does not prevent a pleased growl from escaping. My sight grows hazy with the fantasies of instinct as the world falls away. “Yeah?”

“Your hair... Did you dye it? It was blonde before.”

“My... my hair?” The weird question pulls me out of my reverie, blinking in wonder as to where it comes from. Nevertheless, the senses quickly sharpen as I tighten my grip on the reality of my temporary humanity again. “Right, my hair. I did! I did dye it because... because I thought the blonde didn’t suit me.”

“For what it’s worth,” like a shy schoolgirl, Y/N fumbles with her fingers, “I like this better. This is going to sound weird, but it makes you look more like- I mean, it suits you better.”

“Thank you. But what does it make me look like?”

“Never mind.” A dismissive hand brushes the half-finished remark off as a mere mistake.

“What? What do I look like?” I lean forward, barely holding in the chuckle at her crumbling composure. Notwithstanding, apparently this is the most effective way to get her to talk. “Don’t be shy.”

“Like a- You know, a- You’ll think me stuck in some emo or late teenager phase.”

“Just say it, Y/N. I won’t stop pushing until you tell me. I won’t judge you either. So, tell me.”

The word takes my breath away.

“Wolf,” she finally answers. “It makes you look like a wolf.”

I can’t suppress a smile at the compliment, buzzing with excitement and tail swishing back and forth. Wait, it isn’t my tail that’s causing the low sweeping noises. 

It’s merely the wind.

_Human. Gent... Gentleman. For her. Her gentleman._

“Please say something.” The pretty lady’s heart rate picks up, her scent growing alarmingly anxious like when we had our second meeting on the street.

_No. No, don’t be like this!_

“Good. I am.” 

“What do you mean?” Brows furrowed in confusion, she looks at me blankly. 

“What... oh, uhm, I- I think it’s a good ex- mirror. Likeness! It’s a good likeness. Me and a wolf.” I stick up a thumb in confirmation. Hopefully, it won’t come across as ridiculous as I feel I look.

Her eyes light up with the amber sunlight, her voice as bright when she answers with an adorable giggle. “I think you mean a good comparison.” 

“I do,” I mutter, ashamed at the faulty imitation of human behaviour and tired of the storm of words wreaking havoc in my head. “That’s what I meant.”

“Shall we go find somewhere to sit?’’ Her hair dances on the light breeze as she looks around. ‘’I’m kinda overdue for a cup of coffee.”

“And food. You have to eat, Y/N.”

“Jaebeom...”

‘’Let me take care of you.” I lean in, gaze focused on her lips as I run my tongue over them. The taste of honey and peaches is reminiscent of spring, when the bees in the forest get busy and the trees in the orchards on the outskirts of the town are ripe with blossom. 

_If I’m still here by then, I’ll take you there._

Of course, the thought is translated horribly. “Taste nice.”

“I- I’m glad you like my lip balm.” Cheeks as ruby red as the leaves beneath our feet, she carefully traces her mouth, fingers shaking.

Then she clears her throat and tries to steady her composure, but I’ve evidently caught her off-guard. Which is also noticeable in the small tug on my sleeve. “Let’s go.”

“Are you upset?” I ask, keeping a close eye on her as we walk down the lane towards a big open field of grass.

“No, it’s just that... when you licked me earlier, it wasn’t on,” she lowers her voice to a barely audible and unintelligible murmur though my hearing allows me to still hear her as clear as day, “the lips. It’s almost as if, you know, you kiss... kissed me.”

_Kiss?_

Just then we pass a couple with their lips pressed against each other. The contact lingers for a brief second, as fast as lightning.

And just as fast the meaning of it for humans dawns on me, rising from the ever-diminishing pocket of humanity inside my brain.

“Would you mind if I did?”

Face pale, she rapidly turns to me. Y/N parts her lips to say something yet decides against it and settle for something else. “Let’s start slowly. Get to know each other first.”

_I’d kiss you. You only have to ask._

But we barely know each other. Humans who don’t have a close bond don’t kiss. At least that piece of information has stuck.

We take a right onto the big field and settle down in the grass beneath a tall willow. I’d rather have we sit huddled together or that she sits on my lap so I can keep her warm, but Y/N sits next to me yet far enough away to not touch at all. The displeased whimper and whine get lost in the unpacking of the sandwiches, ignored under the ruckus of unfolding paper.

Notwithstanding, the dissatisfaction evaporates like snow before the sun when a small hand gives me the two venison sandwiches. Restraining myself to not give into the hunger pangs, I accept the food as if she were handing me a weapon. A long metal blade. A sword, I believe it’s called.

However, the careful control doesn’t last long since the first taste of the spiced meat encourages the ravenous part of me to devour the sandwich in one gulp, if possible. And I would have tried had it not been for the breathless giggle at my side.

Nibbling on the straw, Y/N has a strangely tender look on her face as she watches me eat. A wonderful expression that colours a rosy shade of pink when she notices I’m staring right back at her. “Sorry. It’s just... just that I like seeing you eat. You literally wolf your food down with such a happy expression I can’t help but feel happy.”

_Don’t talk with your mouth full. Jinyoung’s told you that more than once._

Like this morning, when he sighed in exasperation like a tired father during breakfast. Henceforth, I chew the food with my mouth closed, swallow and wipe my mouth on a napkin before answering. “I’m a messy eater, though. I don’t think it’s- What’s the word? Ap- Appetizing? It’s appetizing, right? Right, appetizing to watch.”

“I don’t mind.” Like a rabbit, she holds her vegetable sandwich between her tiny paws and takes a small bite out of it. “Just be careful. You don’t want meat juice and sauce on your clothes.”

_Eats like a bunny. Cute. So cute._

“I won’t make a mess,” I murmur, taking care to actually keep my word while sneaking glances at the way she eats. It’s controlled, more nibbling than biting. All the same, relief and contentment mix in a calming way that’s visible in her relaxed composure. Even her scent loses more of the sourness of anxiety. But I’m just glad she’s eating.

We watch other humans as we eat, sitting in comfortable silence. A little ways away, two old people, a male and a female, sit on a bench and feed the pigeons together. Once there is no more bread left - multigrain, judging by the scent - their fingers entwine as they close their eyes to soak up the sunlight.

A soft whine unintentionally rises in my throat, longing after the dream of experiencing that very same moment myself together with Y/N someday.

‘’Are you-?’’ The question doesn’t register, hardly penetrating the dullness washing over me. Ears gloomily drooped down, I continue staring at the old couple.

_Can that be us one day? How long is the road before we get there?_

‘’JB?’’

‘’Hm?’’ Slowed down by the heaviness making a numb statue out of this body, I turn my head.

She holds the unfinished sandwich up I had in my hand a second ago. ‘’What’s on your mind?’’

‘’Nothing.’’ I take the food from her little paw. ‘’Thank you.’’

She doesn’t believe me, but resigns in the face of the unspoken message I don’t want to talk. Instead, she sighs and sips on the straw of her coffee.

“What do you do?” I ask by the time I’m finished with the first of the two sandwiches. Y/N knows what I do for a living and it’s the best question I can think of to try and get to know her better. Also, it might lift the heavy silence that fell over us until the elderly mates left. 

“I’m a journalist for _Pack_. It’s a travel magazine and a great way to see the world. It’s amazing how much is out there, how many cultures and perspectives exist. However,” hands tucked between her thighs, lashes avert to the ground, “as you may have noticed, I’m not the spontaneous sort, which is why I don’t like working alone.”

_Pack? As in, a pack? Although, you said travel so it’s likely... pack stuff? Packing up! That’s it! Putting stuff in bags and going somewhere._

If only it was possible to travel with her someplace far away. Go see the world together so she doesn’t have to be alone. Then again, there is no way to run from myself nor guarantee any form of safety on strange grounds. 

I’ve become too unstable.

Despite trying to hide it, the jealousy I have for who she works with shows in the unintentionally venomous ring in my voice. “Who do you work with?”

“A colleague of mine named Kunpimook, but he prefers going by BamBam. He’s the social and truly adventurous one, so basically I just always happily tag along. Plus, his photos are superb. We’ll be leaving for Bruges the day after tomorrow to take a look at the local chocolate business.”

‘’Is there anything between you two? More than work?” There is no way I’m letting another male anywhere near her because he could take advantage of her. Especially after all this time, working together and thus winning her trust.

_I don’t care if we barely know each other. I won’t have it._

I have to keep her safe.

As Y/N’s gentleman.

Her wolf. 

“There’s nothing between us. He’s more like a brother than anything else and he thinks the same about me.” Her breath quickens as she notices the blazing distrust in my gaze. “W- Why are you looking at me like that?”

Instead of giving an answer, I sniff her to make absolutely certain this other male doesn’t have or has tried already to create the bond with her that I want despite what she said. 

Nothing.

Nothing but summer citrus, autumnal blackberries and juicy peaches.

Good.

To calm her down, I lean in to nuzzle the scent glands in her neck while purring and manipulating my own scent to put her at ease. The tenseness in the palms on my shoulders relaxes, her breaths come at a more regular interval and the rigidity flows from her body.

_You’re safe with me._

A gentle force pushes me back, growing stronger as I fight it by wrapping my arms around her waist. A low growl erupts as the resistance persists, though it dies down at the sound. I’m not letting her go.

Not now. 

Not yet.

Until a voice like a shy robin stammers in discomfort. “Jaebeom, can- can you let go?”

“Have you calmed down?” It’s an unnecessary question. 

There’s a better word for it. Sup... supper? No, that’s not it. Super... something with an 'f'. 

Superfluous! 

It’s a superfluous question because the nervous shivers have stopped. All the same, I don’t want to let go.

I can’t.

I won’t.

Yet I do as something blurry flashes by in my peripheral vision. Almost bumping my head against her jaw, I jolt up and stare ahead in tender awe.

Free of the troubles of the world, a brightly smiling pup runs by with outstretched chubby paws. A bit ahead, there’s another giddy pup. The two must be chasing each other.

A child.

A child is chasing another child.

“What are you looking at?” She follows my gaze, which is fixated on the two children giggling and play-fighting with each other. They stop when hearing their mother call, rise to their little hind legs and run to her.

“One day, I want pups of my own.” The dreamy words roll off the tongue without a thought nor consideration for reality. What they see is what could be. 

A dream of someday. 

“Pups?” The word sounds like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit even though she struggles to make it fit regardless. 

“Yeah, pups. You know,” I nod in the direction of the two siblings, “like those over there.”

A frown mars her lovely face, but it fades into gentle correction. “Children, JB. They’re called children.”

I tilt my head to the side, struggling to understand and make my own puzzle piece fit. “I’m certain someone’s offspring are called pups.”

“Humans,” she gestures from me to her, “like us, call them children. Babies when they’re younger than those toddlers you were watching.”

“I still think _pups_ sounds better.”

I let go of her. Nevertheless, sust to be sure Y/N stays warm, I hook my arm through hers and keep her against my side. Instinctively, she snuggles up to me like on the way here. 

The content sigh goes accompanied with an ironic remark. “Are you really a wolf or something?”

“Yes!” I exclaim, until I check my body and see no paws nor a tail. “No! I mean, no, I’m not. It sounds adorable, though, don’t you think?” I bite my lip, growing warm with another cheesy yet affectionate remark. “But you did say I look like one.”

“I stand by what I said, especially now.” She giggles, murmuring something under her breath I’ll only tolerate when she says it. “Weirdo.”

_Yours. Your weirdo. Your wolf man._

“Have you ever thought about getting them?”

“I actually don’t want children. I’m not too keen on the idea of raising a child and I don’t think that will ever change.” Unaware of the gravity of her statement, she sits up a bit, takes a sip of coffee and finishes her half-eaten vegetable sandwich. 

_Not... not even with me? Then again, you barely know me and I will likely forget you even though I don’t want to. Would you change your mind if the pup might be the only trace of me before I disappear?_

“How about you?”

“I’d like to one day, but...” I trail off, choking on the truth. Her words have created a stone in my stomach which makes me nauseous and unable to think. 

“But what?” She places a bunny-like paw on my back, rubbing gently as she averts her gaze and speaks in a remorseful tone. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

“I have this...” Fumbling with my fingers, I speak up despite the paralyzing speechlessness. No word seems to accurately describe what’s going on nor is it credible enough to describe the truth. Nevertheless, she has to know what’s going on. 

I want her to.

I trust her. 

So I try and tell her my story. “I have this condition. I have trouble remembering things and it’s been getting worse.”

“Is it something like dementia?” Out of a lack of a better explanation for this side-effect of lycanthropy, I merely nod in confirmation. A grim paleness colours her attitude, lips pulling into a straight line as she’s now suffocating with words too. “Do you have medication? Anything to help fight it?”

I fish the small bottle of pills Jinyoung gave me this morning out of my pocket. With a thumb over the ingredients, I show it to her. “My friend’s a doctor at the university. He’s put me on these, but I have a feeling they’re not as effective anymore as they once were.” I put the bottle back. “I do want them, though not with the way I am. They deserve better than a father who’d forget them eventually if he even remembers them at all in the first place. Moreover, my partner would have to take care of me as well as the pups. I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”

“I’m sure,” our gazes meet as our fingers entwine, naturally weaving together like beds of moss on the bark of a tree, “they would gladly care if they know about your condition.”

I rest my forehead against hers and lower my voice to a hopeful whimper. “You know about it.”

A mistake. 

“We’ve just met.”

“Right,” I murmur and withdraw though I hold on to her paw a little tighter. 

She’s right. We’ve just met.

I’m still a stranger. A stranger in a world strange to him.

“Yet,” Y/N takes in a shaky breath before she continues and transforms the burden of loneliness into a storm of butterflies, “I’d stay. For now, can I stay by your side like this?”

“Of course.” In an impulse, I pull her into my arms and on my lap. Her hair smells like argan oil, sweet yet pleasant like summer. “Never doubt that. Never think I don’t want you to.”

Despite the joy, tears sting in my eyes at the realization I’m no longer alone, surviving like a floating ship in unknown waters. Of course, there’s Jinyoung, but he can’t be there in ways the pretty lady can. 

Y/N is my anchor now. 

“Don’t go.” I can’t suppress an ugly sob, gripped by fear at the vision of ending up alone in spite of the promise. To go back to the way I was, on the brink of being lost forever. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” she murmurs into my hair, lovingly running her fingers through it to calm me down. “I’m here, Jaebeom. I’m here. Until I can’t anymore.”

For a little while, we sit like this beneath the willow. The world shrinks and fades into a blur of autumn shades in October, its sounds gradually becoming nothing more than indistinguishable white noise. 

They rise in volume again when I’ve stopped crying, the reality filtering in by sharpening the song of robins and nature dressed in warm tones of red and gold.

We exchange numbers. As she types hers into my phone, she promises to send me daily reminders to take my medicine and threatens to spam me with them until I send a confirmation. Guess I finally have something to look forward to aside from Jinyoung’s cooking.

_Coming back was a good decision after all. I want to try for you. Until I can’t anymore._

“And you can call me whenever you like too,” she shyly remarks as we switch back our devices.

My ears perk up as a delighted buzz leaves me trembling. “Really?” I yelp, my tail quickly swishing back and forth. My nerves are on edge with delight, limbs ready to pounce on her. But I don’t.

Because I am human.

And I don’t want to give off the wrong impression.

_But your body tells me something else. No! Not without your consent._

“Yes, because I... well, aside from being with you, I like... your... your voice.”

“I like yours.” I lean in and run my tongue over her lips like before. Does that count as a kiss? 

“And I like your scent,” I add, purring as I trace my fingers over her arm to her wrist. 

“Uhm, Jaebeom, what- what are you doing?”

I press it against my nose, drunkenly nuzzling it while trying to conceal my panting. “I’m scenting you so they’ll know you’re mine.” To strengthen the claim, I leave a stronger imprint of my own scent on her by giving it a firm lick. Even her skin tastes of spring. “You smell really nice.”

“I’m glad you, ah, like my perfume, but,” a strange panic creeps into her voice after a pained squeak when I sink my teeth into her flesh, “JB, I think you should stop. People are watching.”

“Let them.’’ The taste of iron floods the senses, raising the beast within further to the surface. Notwithstanding, I fight the urge to pin her to the ground for a proper mating. So all I do is help the healing by licking the ridged skin of the shallow wound. A wolf’s saliva works as a disinfectant and anti- ant- health advancer. ‘’I want them to know I’m your mate.”

_Besides, how else am I supposed to mark you?_

“Mate? What? JB, are you okay? You’re starting to make less and less sense.” A small warm palm cups my cheek, initiating a lock of gazes. Frantic with concern, she searches for a reason as to what I’m going through in my gaze though I doubt if she will. “You’re burning up.”

I weave my fingers through those on the side of my face, a wistful smile on my lips. “I’m forgetting myself again. You wouldn’t understand when I’d say I’m slowly fading and not just forgetting as I told you. And it’s gotten worse because of you.”

“Be- Because of me?”

“It’s not a bad thing.” To assure her it’s not as grave as she thinks, I close my eyes and hum in pure content. After all, I could lose my humanity a lot faster in a less pleasant way. At least it’ll be slower now that I have something to fight, to live for. “You don’t understand the significance of it and I don’t want you to.”

“You’re talking nonsense. You’re not going anywhere soon. Let’s go home before your fever gets any worse.”

Our fingers disentangle, mine gliding over the indentation I’ve left behind on her wrist before I wrap my arms around her waist. Her heart races in my ear when I rest my head on the softness of her breasts, her breath falling still in an instant when I place her hand on my head. Hopefully, Y/N will catch on to what I mean by it. “Yeah, it’s definitely getting worse, but I looked forward to this. This park outing. So can we please stay like this for a little longer? A nap might make me feel... bet... ter.”

The wish is granted, because she runs her hand through my hair. Hesitantly at first, but quickly setting a pace for herself that lets me rest tranquilly. 

In the sky above, the moon looks down on us. If I wasn’t sleepy, I would howl to it and sing a wolf song. Instead, I purr and bask in my mate’s presence until I lose conscience. “Hm, nice.”

_I love you and always will. My love will never change. I swear so by the moon._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Y/N's POV.

There are a lot of extraordinary people in the world, but you often don’t find them remarkable until you happen to stumble upon and talk to them. The wolfish man holding tightly onto my hand, his arm draped across my shoulders, as we swagger over the pavement to his home above  _ Paper Souls _ is such a curious person.

The good hour he dozed off hasn’t helped his sickly state. Even though he was nestled comfortably against me, occasionally a pained delirious whine fell from his panting lips as his features turned into a grimace. Upon waking, Jaebeom tried to dismiss his symptoms as nothing to worry about, but I insisted on getting him home as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry I ruined our outing,” he murmurs, voice strained. As we ascend the stairs to his apartment, he keeps his head bent low to focus on his steps.

_ Step by step. One foot before the other. There you go. _

“It’s not your fault you got sick,” I reply, keeping a close eye on his movements to offer additional support if needed.

He turns his head to me, a few long black locks partially concealing the sweat on his brow. For a moment, it seems as if he wants to protest yet decides against it. Henceforth, what I get in reply is a hum resigning in the notion it’s indeed not his fault.

_ Is your condition causing this? _

The question burns hot on the tongue, but I swallow it down. Hopefully, we’ll get to talk about it properly sometime in the future. 

The day we know each other.

We make it to the top, albeit not effortlessly since I have to steady him when he almost trips on the last step. Panic and instinct rush through me when Jaebeom threatens to topple over, so I act quickly and shoulder more of his weight after clumsily steadying us both on the narrow staircase. 

“Are you going to be alright?” I ask, out of breath. The adrenaline of the potential danger has spent whatever energy I had, the muscles in my limbs melted.

“I will be,” he weakly answers. 

I gently let his arm glide from my shoulders, the removal of the weight simultaneously a relief and a missed presence. The attempt at letting him stand on his own feet is successful, although his hand shakes as he unlocks the front door.

The feverish fingers glide from the doorknob to entwine with mine once more before his tongue runs over my lips again. Despite this being the third time it happens, it still doesn’t fail to bewilder me nor bring a boyish smirk to his face when I look at him, speechless.

“Thanks. Today nice. I-,” he starts up and averts his gaze to the side, a rosy flush on his cheeks, “I mean, today was nice.”

I put my hand on the side of his face, gently compelling him to look at me. A cheeky idea rises in my mind, tempting me to go against my very nature.

Which I do.

Standing on the tips of my toes, I close my eyes and give him a peck on the cheek. The action surprises us both because he looks utterly gobsmacked when I have gathered very piece and sliver of the courage needed to look up at him.

However, before I can utter a word, a hesitating hand reaches out to carefully brush against my cheek, the touch as light as the fall of a feather on porcelain. The gentleness of the contact forms a funny contrast to the roughness when he firmly presses his lips on mine the second after.

Musk mingled with the musty perfume of books, warmth of spices and bitter coffee with a hint of fresh cologne fills my nose and overtakes the senses. My brain short-circuits, filled with a strange primal instinct no one has ever awakened before. Notwithstanding, something in the way our bodies harmonize in the small yet passionate contact triggers it, leaving me wanting more.

Skin on skin.

Just us.

But it’s too early and we barely know each other. This isn’t right. Not now, at least.

Hence is why I pull away, taking a step back with the imprint of his moustache ticklish on my lips. 

A whimper like an abandoned puppy erupts from his throat as he chases after my mouth. Nevertheless, when I take a step back to avoid further contact, he gives up and lowers his head. However, as rapidly as disappointment had overtaken him, he rights himself and clears his throat. When he speaks up, the words come out in a mumbled mess. “I- I’m sorry. That was too direct.”

“No, it’s fine,” I reassure him, vaguely gesturing with one hand while I rub the back of my neck with the other. “I- I liked it, but let’s not- Do you... really see me that way?”

“In what way?” he asks, blinking as he gives me a blank look. But, the meaning dawns on him after a moment in which I badly try to articulate what I mean. 

He grabs my right wrist, the one he bit, and holds it up for me to see. The broken skin has already healed a bit, but it’s still sensitive and throbbing, especially now that JB puts pressure on it. “I didn’t do this out of some de- del- confused?”

“Delirious?” I help him, wondering what point he is about to try and convince me of. 

“Delirious! I didn’t do this out of a delirious frenzy. This means something to me. Something important. To me, this is us.” JB takes in a deep breath to steady himself, his voice strained as he seems to hold something in. “What I want for us. And I want others to know this because you’re my territory.”

“I’m just a friend.”

_ And scared of losing you to Love. _

“You are, but you’re also more to me. I know you said you want to take things slow and I agree with that.’’ His expression softens, dark eyes filled with tender affection. ‘’However, I want you to know how I really feel about you.”

“I don’t want to risk our friendship.”

“Me too. Yet,” he closes the distance and cups my face, his thumbs lovingly brushing my cheeks, “you deserve to know my intentions. Know I want to take the risk when you’re ready to do so too.”

“Thank you.” I run my hands over his arms, his body heat warming my palms through the fabric of the sleeves. It’s a pleasant thought, knowing he is there to catch me should my knees give out. Which is likely to happen as the leftover tension from our trip upstairs fades and affection fills the heart. 

“For what?”

“Waiting.”

_ Until I figure out when it’s the right time. _

He nips at the tip of my nose, his tongue cheeky in its feather light touch. “I always will. Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

“I’m going out for tea with a friend.” The delight in his expression sours as it did in the park, the confident playfulness replaced by a vicious brooding. The autumn chill cools my face, the warmth and safety of his hands fallen away. 

Turned to stone by the suppressed vehemence, I stumble over my words as I swiftly explain myself. “She is an old friend I met at university. We go out for tea or coffee often, especially before I have to go on a trip.”

“Ah, I see.” He hangs his head in remorse, but perks up immediately as if remembering something. “I got you something. Wait here.”

He rushes inside, coming back soon after with two books in his hands which he holds out to me. A collection of Keats’s poems and  _ Songs of Innocence and Experience _ by William Blake.

The books I read when we met.

“For you,” JB happily announces, the bright proud ring in his voice distorting it to sound like a bark. “So you have something to read when you’re away.”

“Thank you so much. That’s so sweet of you.” I accept the gift, showing my gratitude in the brush over his fingers as I take the books from his hands. “I should get you something in return.”

“Just send me a reminder to take my medication every day.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’s all I want.”

I nod. “I can do that.”

“And a text you arrived home safely.”

“Of course.”

“And let me pick you up from the airport when you come back.”

“My, do you have any other demands?”

Lips pursed as if seriously considering the rhetorical remark, Jaebeom tilts his head to the side. “Well, eating together again would be nice. Maybe we can go around town and try out various cafés and go bookshop hopping? I could also cook for you at least once a week, though I’ll have to ask Jinyoung to teach me.”

_ Oh my God, he really is serious. _

Before he continues adding to the evidently growing list, I cut him off. “Okay, okay, I hear you. One thing at a time, alright?”

“Right,” he chuckles, “one thing at a time.”

“I’m gonna go.” With a heavy heart full of reluctance, I initiate our goodbyes. “Go to bed and get some rest before your fever worsens. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Can I have one more kiss?”

“Of course.”

I stand on the tip of my toes and tenderly press my lips against his. “Goodnight, Jaebeom.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

I ascend the stairs, but do not head home immediately. Instead, I remain where I stand and turn around to wave at the wolfish man gazing down at me.

One more moment with him.

Before I set off on the homebound journey in the next.

Above, the moon is waning.

***

Yesterday evening, Morgan sent pictures of the place she has chosen for our next tea adventure, lyrical about the interior. Since the moment we met, in our first year of studying journalism at the local university, we have been visiting coffee shops and tea rooms around the country and occasionally written an article about them for the university’s blog. Our adventures always begin the same, never having changed in the six years we have known each other.

A picture.

And a rant about aesthetics, reviews, and the potential of having discovered a hidden gem.

The latter might be the case of  _ Moon Bunny Coffee and Tea _ , a tea room inspired by the French countryside. The far wall is made of bare brick, which forms a strangely yet nice contrast to the white wooden furniture and neatly set tables. From the speakers in the corners of the establishment, instrumental pieces and French songs alternate each other to enhance the atmosphere that makes one feel as if they are truly in France. And if the interior does nothing for the imagination, the pastries and beverage names noted in French on the menu will do the trick. 

It’s only recently opened and is run by a young couple. Élise, the owner, has opened this establishment after working in various patisseries in Paris during her teenage years. However, she has now settled here with who I actually presume rather than know is her partner. According to the context Morgan sent, the tall guy with pale blond hair, oval narrow face and a leather necklace with a strange bauble - that seems to change colour - hanging from it is called Mark. The level of familiarity between the two as they work makes it easy to assume there is more than friendship, hence the suspected relation between the two.

“So, have you seen him again?” Morgan takes a sip of her cinnamon and apple tea, a smirk on her cherry red lips.

I told her about Jaebeom and the strange first encounter with him. Regardless of the weird amiability that grew between us as the hours passed in each other’s company, I could not help but remain wary. After all, the bookseller has a particular reputation thanks to the rumours created by the local gossip mill. In hindsight, it’s idiotic I used those groundless stories in my analysis or, rather, overanalysis of the kindness he showed me. Yet, I did, though they sound as absurd as they did before now that I know him better.

Notwithstanding, whereas I was losing my sanity anxious bit by anxious bit as I told her about it over the phone, Morgan’s enthusiasm grew at the same rate. Each argument in favour of the concern about my strangeness or far-fetched theory he was merely polite, she countered with a more realistic view on the situation. In the end, it’s also her input which led to me dropping by  _ Paper Souls _ on the way to work and back on a daily basis.

And I’m glad she’s part of the reason I did because I might otherwise have given up after the third day of seeing the bookshelves cast in shadows. 

“I have,” I admit, unable to suppress a smile at the memory of our outing to the park.

And what came after.

The memory of the chafing of his moustache triggers a phantom of the loving warmth of his lips on mine. Cheeks heat up, remembering the roughness of his sturdy hands. A sharp sting followed by a throbbing treks through my wrist again, the half-healed wound suffering from a pleasant phantom pain. 

“Judging by that grin of yours, you’re not telling me everything.” Morgan cuts her scone in half and smears some of the homemade strawberry jam it comes with on one half, followed by a dollop of clotted cream. 

I nibble on the rice cake filled with red bean paste. Maybe it’s not a perfect partner to the tea I chose although it makes for a delicious combination regardless. The taste of red beans is an acquired one, but the subtle sweetness evens out the bitterness of the beverage. “We went on somewhat of a date.”

“Somewhat?”

“It kind of just happened.” The whiskey tea I ordered is stronger than I thought, howbeit not in an unpleasant way. Like the real drink, it goes down smoothly and warms the body from within. “He offered to go out for lunch in the park and I agreed. It was nice. Really nice.”

Especially his body heat, the safety of his presence. How protected I felt despite not knowing him all that well.

“And?”

“And?” I repeat like a parrot. I know what she’s unconsciously aiming at, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll tell her outright. It’s always fun to tease the raven-haired woman a little. 

“Details, lass!” 

“We kissed,” I say, the confession hardly louder than a whisper. ‘’And I was the one to initiate it.’’

“How scandalous.” In fake shock, she clasps her hand over her mouth. “You’re a bold one, Y/N.”

“Oh, stop it.” I take a sip of tea and point at the other half of her scone. “Clotted cream with jam instead of the other way around now?”

As a fierce defender of both sides of the old discussion, Morgan indeed now smears the fluffy white cream on the other half first before she tops it off with the jam. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“I do, but I’m not sure if there’s a future for us.” I lean back, cross my arms and look out the window. 

A little distance away, there’s a metal bench and somehow an image of myself sits on it, alone. No wonder she looks glum because she is the me of the future, a woman who’s heart was devoted to the type of love that is, like humans, a plaything of Time. 

She tilts her head to the side, brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”

“It’s not my place to say this, but,’’ I turn back to her, absent-mindedly rubbing the mark on my wrist, ‘’he told me he has this condition that’s kinda like dementia, but he gave off the impression it’s also not. I don’t know what’s going on, only that there’s a deadline. A cruel one, and while I know avoiding it is futile, I’m not ready to face it nor will I ever be.”

The confusion on her face lightens to understanding concern. However, despite her features softening, there remains a hint of brooding in her attitude. “I see. It’s like that,” she murmurs cryptically as she takes a bite of her scone, more to herself than as a reply to me. “The story is repeating itself.”

“Morgan,” the mention of her name makes the raven-haired woman snap out of her reverie, “what do you mean?”

Instead of providing a proper answer, she dismisses the questions with a vague gesture. “Just the murmurs of an old soul.”

***

There is inherent beauty in the medieval cities of Europe that leaves one in awe wherever they go. Furthermore, the shops specialized in local goods and hidden gems add to the flair of narrow streets enclosed by tall buildings that breathe history. Nevertheless, regardless of the ancient beauty, there is nothing which can compete with a warm bed at the end of a day full of running from one end of the town to the other in search of the best chocolatiers.

Well, there is one thing.

As I’m putting on my pyjamas, my phone gives off a light buzz, indicating a new message. 

**Jaebeom:** Can we video call? I miss your face. 

_ You... You miss seeing me? _

In spite of the unease of not having makeup on, I oblige and call him first. It has not even gone over once before messy black locks show up on screen. However, before he can have a good look at me, I quickly slink beneath the blanket.

“What’re you doing?” He, too, is in bed howbeit without any insecurity whatsoever. In fact, he is more than comfortable wearing not even a top regardless of the chilly weather, leaving defined collarbones and defined chest muscles on display. 

“I’m not wearing makeup, so I look horrible.”

_ And you showing up like this doesn’t help either. _

Because the bare skin, little as it is, unleashes a storm of butterflies in the stomach. The temperature in the room rises or maybe it is simply my body reacting to the aching to run my fingertips over his definitions, the features that unintentionally unleash an absurd frenzy holding the middle between unashamed love and lust. The cheeks heat up as the need for the thick comforter decreases yet the growing discomfort is not enough to come out of hiding. 

“I’m sure you don’t.” Either intentionally or not, he puts on irresistible puppy eyes. The well-meant tenderness in his voice also stirs something in me, charmed by the kindness. “Please don’t hide. I want to see you.”

Although reluctant, I lower the sheets. 

Only to want to pull them over my head at his words and the stupidly bright smile accompanying them. “You’re even prettier like this.”

“Shut up, you weird wolf,” I grumble, jaw clenched as I strain myself not to hide again. To distract us both, I change the topic. “Did you take your meds?”

“I did! And I mean it. No, no, no! Get out from under there. Y/N, come on. I’m not lying. You are pretty. And caring and nice and-’’

“You’re handsome.” I glare at him, peeking just over the edge of the sheet. Unfortunately, my revenge isn’t successful since it merely yields a low chuckle.

Though it seems the victory is still mine because he bites on his bottom lip and softens his voice further to a timid whisper. “Even with my new look?” 

He shows off the mess of his shorter black locks, which are shaved on the side and longer on top. It’s a shame to see the long hair go because I personally think it suits him better, but he pulls the cooler style off too.

“Even more so because of it.” Although they’re essentially minor changes, it casts Jaebeom in a whole other light. He’s still a wolfish man, and I doubt I’ll ever see him as something else, but the new look gives him a more human allure. As if he’s tuned in better to life in the city instead of wandering the rough landscape in his mind. 

“I’ll tell Jinyoung he did a good job, then.” He gets up on his elbow, a view of the upper part of his chest filling the small screen. The veins in his hand form mellow ridges on the back of it, highlighting a few patches where the skin has scraped off, as he fluffs his pillow before lying down again and snuggling into it to get comfortable. “How’s Bruges?”

“It’s a really pretty city. I think you’d like it.” A wistful smile forms on my lips, in part dazed by the entrancing sight a moment ago. “I wish you were here. Wish we could get lost forever... together! I mean, get lost together. Here. In the city.”

“Are you getting sleepy?” His features soften into a dreamy expression though a cheeky spark illuminates the night sky in his eyes. 

“No,” I fiercely protest. That is, until an involuntary yawn escapes me, which makes it impossible to hide the fatigue of running about town the entire day anymore. “Maybe.”

“Go to sleep, Y/N.”

“Don’t want to. We’ve only been talking for a few minutes.” I conceal another yawn by pulling up the comforter.

“You likely have another busy day ahead. So go hit the hay and I’ll talk to you in my dream.”

“Who says I won’t do the same?’’ I remark smugly, proud of the comment that pops up and is too tempting not to make. ‘’Wouldn’t that make it  _ our  _ dream?”

“We’ll talk in  _ our  _ dream,” he corrects himself, a content hum following the correction. Notwithstanding, the delight darkens into a stern seriousness as he tries to look over my shoulder to scan the room, to inspect every nook and cranny instead of what’s on display in the background. “By the way, what’s your colleague doing? Are you alone?”

I roll my eyes and sigh. “He has his own room because he tends to want more of the local taste, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.” A deeply puzzled expression forms on his face, clearing the spine-chilling suspicion. “Is that code for something?”

“An affair, JB. My colleague more often than not enjoys a one-night stand, if not more, with local girls. It depends on how long we’re away.”

“Have you ever done that?” It has to be the exhaustion, but the question strangely sounds like a whine. 

“Never. In fact, you...” I bite my lip as my stomach ties itself into a nauseating knot, chest constricted with bleak worry about what he will say about the confession balancing precariously on the tip of the tongue. However, I swallow hard and continue the unfinished sentence. “You’re the first guy I’ve dated.”

“We’re dating?”

“Are we?” His question makes me wonder if we actually are, if I didn’t jump to a fantastical conclusion. Then again, we kissed, went out together, and drank coffee in his shop. Nevertheless, also judging by the curiosity in his response, I doubt it’s right for me to assume it’s true. “Well, maybe we aren’t. After all, we’ve only been to the park, so I suppose-’’

_ I’m wrong, because we barely know each other and yet. Yet, I kissed him. And he kissed me back. Is that anything to go by, a valid reason? _

“We’re dating!” The sudden outburst catches me as much off-guard as the enthusiastic addition or, rather, plan for when I return. “I’ll cook for you after bringing you home. Afterwards, we can just sit on the couch and read. You can also nap on me to cure your jet lag. Does that count as a date?”

“I don’t know if it does according to the official terms, but,” the fatigue ebbs away, replaced by the giddiness of going home as soon as possible, “it does to me.”

“Two dates,” he murmurs thoughtfully, nodding as if confirming an unspoken notion. “We’re dating.”

_ Weirdo. _

I watch him analyze the situation, overcome with affection. When he bites down on his index finger to suppress a broad grin, I almost have to do the same. 

“I wish I was there with you,” Jaebeom eventually notes to break the twilight hush, at last content on where we stand. The yearning of the wish is tangible in my bones because I feel the same way, though I try not to show it. “I should’ve given you a shirt or something, but I wasn’t sure if it would be good. That’s not the word. Ap... ap... appropropiate? Appropriate. If it would be that.”

“I do have the books you gave me, so I do have a piece of you here.”

_ But I do miss your scent. Wait, that’s weird to say. I shouldn’t say that. _

Though it’s indeed strange and I don’t tell him, it isn’t a lie. Jaebeom does smell nice, like a wild forest in which the air is scented by a cologne that barely conceals its secret. The ferocious guardian in the shadows. 

“Still, I wish I had given you something that marks you as mine.” Gaze downcast, the big wolf man pouts at the thought, sulking. 

“You have.” I hold up my wrist, the place where he bit me now nothing but a red blotch.

“It’s almost gone. I should renew that once you’re back. A shirt and bite. That should show other males we’re together,” he muses, the disappointment gone in an instant as his focus changes.

“Totally not possessive, are we?”

“I’m not,” he grumbles. “Just marking my territory.”

“JB, you are.”

“Does it bother you, make you upset?”

“Yes and no.” I take in a shaky breath, distracted by the thought of the implications I want him to be. After all, something about the feral allure melts any resistance and lets me slip into a headspace I didn’t know I had. 

Somewhere, deeply hidden in the brain, there’s a different woman, a different ego. A part of me which wants and needs him. That doesn’t mind being his possession.

His mate. 

“Don’t get me wrong-’’

“How can I get you good?”

The unintentional play on words uttered by urgent yet confused puppy eyes distracts me from the splendid explanation I wanted to give him.

_ How... How does he do it? Does he even know what he’s doing? Never mind. _

“Don’t misunderstand me,” I begin anew, “I appreciate your concern for me and I really do feel safe with you. But you bit me. In public too! I get it’s your way of telling me you like me and maybe I don’t actually mind the mark you left behind so much-’’

“So it’s not the biting?” A boyish smirk plays on his lips. Had he had an actual tail, it would have been swishing heavily with a dangerous cheer. “I can do it again?”

“No.”

_ Maybe someday I’ll let you. But not anytime soon. _

“But you said you didn’t mind my mark. If that isn’t a problem, why can’t I refresh it?”

“Jaebeom, please, let me finish talking.”

“Sorry.”

“Thank you.” I take in a deep breath. “Now, normal human couples don’t bite each other to let others and one another know they belong together. So let’s try to find other ways to do just that. Commonly, the girl wears the guy’s shirt. I think that’s a good starting point for us.”

“What are other ‘ways’?” he asks, evidently not too keen on the idea.

I tilt my head, trying to come up with the most frequent ways in which people casually express being taken without immediately suggesting obvious physical marks. “Necklaces, bracelets and rings are common couple items. Some even go as far as getting matching tattoos.”

“I like the sound of that, a tattoo. Permanent. Permanent human mark.”

“Let me think about that one, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods in agreement. “But, if I understand you correctly, I can give you a shirt.”

“You can.”

“And you’ll wear it because it has my scent on it.”

“That’s kind of the idea behind it,” I confirm, glad he understands the underlying meaning despite not explaining it.

He looks down at his chest only to discover he’s not wearing anything. The glance over his shoulder falls on a black shirt somewhere behind him. He turns away, grabs the piece of clothing and holds it tightly against his body when he turns back to me. “Sounds good to me.”

I guess I’ll be given a ‘welcome home’ present. 


End file.
